


But All Your Bullets Ricochet

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodyguard, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Rogers is pulled out of the army to protect to the president's son. </p><p>The thing is, this isn't the first time they've met. Even if Bucky doesn't remember him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But All Your Bullets Ricochet

“But I don’t _want_ a new bodyguard.”

Steve can hear the argument from the other room. The open door isn’t helping. He tugs on his collar slightly and wonders if the president’s son knows he’s out there, or if he even cares.

“Why can’t I have Francis?”

“Francis is retiring. You need someone younger to keep up with your…antics.”

Bucky flattens his tongue against his teeth in a restrained effort not to respond to that. His father’s waiting for any excuse to put him under house arrest again. It’s only two months since the last time.

“So you just picked some dumb army grunt to follow me around?”

“He’s waiting outside by the way.” The president nods to the door. “At least he’s punctual.”

Bucky glances at the door. He didn’t mean for the guy to hear him, but maybe it’s for the best if the new bodyguard knows up front that he’s not wanted. It’ll save time that way.

He straightens up. “Fine.” He heads for the door.

“James.”

He hates being called that. Bucky turns and faces his father.

“You _will_ behave for this one. He has permission to do whatever it takes to keep you line.”

Bucky stares at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Cause it sure sounds like you’re just handing me over-”

“It means he’ll do whatever it takes.” His father picks up the file on his desk. “You can go.”

Bucky walks out stiffly, not even looking at the tall blonde guy in the dark suit waiting outside the Oval Office. “Come on then.”

He stalks all the way back to his own room at the end of the residential wing and goes in, slamming the door in the bodyguard’s face.

Steve takes a deep breath and then pushes it open. Bucky’s resting his hands on his desk, staring out the window. His back is still rigid with tension and Steve wants to tell him to relax, it isn’t that bad. Bucky won’t believe him though. He knows that much.

“When somebody slams a door in your face it usually means they don’t want you around.” Bucky looks over his shoulder and freezes.

“Sorry, but I’m supposed to look after you.” Steve keeps his face neutral. This is the moment he’s been prepared for. It could go either way.

“Hang on.” Bucky straightens up, still staring at him. “I know you.”

"Agent Rogers reporting for duty." Steve keeps his posture straight as the president's son looks him over.

"Let me guess, army." Bucky knows he has to be right on this one.

"Yes, sir."

"Lt?"

"Captain actually."

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "I'm impressed. And you gave that up just to watch my ass."

Steve refrains from saying what he would have said once a long time ago ( _it's a good ass to watch_ ) and shrugs. But Bucky’s looking at him like he despises him for it, and Steve's still honest these days. "Actually I was assigned."

"Ah, see now it makes sense." Bucky nods. "Well, seeing as neither of us want you to be here, why don't we just agree to keep out of each other's way. What do you say?"

Steve ignores the hand he's holding out. "Did you really think that would work?"

Bucky shrugs. "Worth a shot."

He takes off his jacket and tosses it near the chair in the corner. It falls short, hitting the floor in a crumpled heap. "I'm going to take a shower." He unzips his pants, stepping out of his shoes. "You can either stand there like a statue. Or," Bucky’s lips curve into that well-known grin, "you can always come watch."

Steve just looks at him.

Bucky sighs. "Suit yourself."

He walks into the bathroom and locks the door. Steve frowns at that, but he’s not going to push everything on the first day.

* * *

Once he’s in the shower Bucky tries to remember where he's seen the man before. It's a patchy blur in his mind but he _know_ s that he has. Somewhere, somehow he knows Rogers. The ache at the back of his head starts up again. Bucky sticks his neck under the shower trying to ease it.

By the time he walks out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, hair slicked back, Bucky's even more annoyed by the whole thing than he was before. “So where do I know you from?"

Steve has taken up position by the window. "What makes you think you know me?"

"Something about you is familiar. And annoying." Bucky drops his towel and opens a drawer.

Steve glances over and then away again.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before." Steve tells him without looking his way again.

Bucky grins. “Oh yeah, the army." He pulls his boxers up and shrugs. "Ever bend over and take it for anyone, captain?"

"Seems to me you don't know what the army's all about."

"Why don't you explain it then?" Bucky says coolly. He can drop the charm whenever he likes and he does right now. He doesn’t have to win over his bodyguard.

"All right." Steve turns to face him. "It's about following orders, being part of a team. Working with the guy next to you." He eyes Bucky. "But you wouldn't have any idea what that's like now, would you? The only thing you know-"

"Shut up." Bucky cuts him off. "You don't know anything about me."

"Oh?" Steve cocks his head at him. "Don't I?"

He crosses the room in a few easy strides. Bucky resists the urge to back up against the dresser. Rogers is 6’2 and impressive sure, but that doesn’t mean Bucky’s scared of him.

"You forget," Steve leans in, "You said you know me." His eyes search Bucky’s like he waiting for something. Hoping maybe there’s…

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly. He does, he _knows_ he does. But he still can't place Steve. "Now what?" They're standing close enough he can see the faint blonde hairs on Steve's jawline. He has a ridiculous urge to touch them. Like that’s gonna happen.

"Now you're gonna pick your jacket up."

Bucky blinks. "Excuse me?"

"You're not here to make extra work for people. Their jobs are hard enough as it is," Steve leans in even closer, "Pick it up."

It's not the tone, or even the command that makes Bucky harden in his shorts. It's the look in Steve's eye that says he knows Bucky will do it. How does he know that?

Bucky leans in so that his lips just about brush Steve's earlobe. "I'd like to see you make me." He steps back, waiting for it.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Steve almost looks disgusted. "Then go crying to your father about it? No thanks." He steps back.

"If it gets the job done." Bucky shrugs. He doesn't need this hassle. His arousal has died down almost as quickly as it appeared. All he wants now is a drink and to go to bed.

He looks around for the bottle he stashed somewhere. "Get out, I'm going to bed."

"Yes sir." Steve's sarcasm isn't the slightest bit disguised as he goes out the door. Bucky sighs, knowing the agent will still just be on the other side. There's no escape. There never is.

Bucky finds the bottle at last tucked down behind the couch. He takes it off to bed with him, sprawling out across the sheets. Try as he might he still can't remember the blonde man, or where he's seen him before. Bucky lifts the bottle to his lips. Not like it matters anyway. He stares at the ceiling and takes another sip.

* * *

Steve leans against the wall and sighs. Okay, so it's not a complete disaster but it's not going as well as he hoped it would either. He didn't mean to lose his temper like that. Not on the first day. (if that's you losing your temper, I think we're gonna get along fine.)

It’s not like he actually expected Bucky to remember him. Or _not_ remember him. Honestly Steve’s not sure what he expected when he first got the assignment, but he hadn't expected any of this.

He checks his watch. Chances are Bucky will sleep till morning and he could hand it over to the night shift, but it’s his first night and he doesn’t want to leave just yet. Steve takes up position on the floor. Sitting with his legs drawn up, he stifles a yawn with the back of his hand.

* * *

Bucky rolls over in bed, jerking awake. His heart's pounding, the frantic thudding that always means bad things in his dreams.

He turns over on his side and takes a deep breath- breathing in and out until the panic subsides. He sits up. The empty bottle's on the table. His bladder's killing him. He heads to the bathroom and pisses. Bucky doesn’t look at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. He knows all too well how he looks.

His jacket's still on the floor.

Something about last night. Something about Rogers. Bucky still can't figure out where he knows Rogers from. Who knows, maybe he imagined the whole thing. But the sense of annoyance and...something else that hits him when he looks at the body guard, that's all too real.

Coffee. He needs coffee.

Bucky pulls on a t-shirt and opens the door.

Rogers pushes himself up from the floor just a fraction too late.

Bucky stares at him. "Did you actually sit there all night?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just shakes his head. "That's pathetic."

Steve follows him down the hall in silence. He feels rumpled and unprofessional. He wants a shower, and some breakfast. Hell, he wishes he were back in the army.

* * *

In the kitchen Bucky taps the empty coffee pot and sighs. "Fucking figures." He starts making a new pot.

He looks up to see Steve watching him. "What you think I can't make coffee?"

"Did I say that?"

"Your eyes say it all, champ," Bucky hits the button and turns around to lean against the counter.

He looks exhausted and Steve wants to ask if he actually slept at all, but something in Bucky’s eyes prevents the question from making it to his tongue.

Bucky grinds the heels of his hands against his eyes and blinks. The nightmare’s faded. They generally leave pretty quickly, and now he’s there with the aftereffects. The sense of helpless failure, the paralyzing fear in his gut and in his limbs. The fact that nothing changes no matter what he does.

A harried looking woman passes through the hall and passes. “Oh, I’m sorry about the coffee, James. Do you want me to get that?”

Bucky waves her off. “I’ve got it.” She hurries on with a grateful smile.

He moves to lean against the island counter, resting his head on his folded arms. If he could go back to sleep right now he would in a heartbeat.

 _You used to sleep like that at your desk_ , Steve thinks, and doesn’t say it. Instead he says. “Do you prefer to be called James?”

“What, you mean you’re gonna call me something other than sir?” Bucky mumbles into his arms. He turns his head and squints at Steve.

The coffeemaker buzzes and he straightens up.

“Can I get a cup of that?”

Bucky shrugs. “Why not? After all, we can’t have you falling asleep on the job now, can we?” He pours himself a cup and passes the pot over to Steve.

“That would be bad.” Steve agrees. He adds some milk but no sugar.

That’s day one.

* * *

Bucky doesn’t sleep much ever. Steve figures that out during the first week. Nobody else around the White House seems to have noticed that Bucky’s just slipping by, going through the motions. When he does sleep it’s after drinking. Steve’s counted the bottles. Somebody gets them for him. Steve makes a note to find out who’s responsible for that little job.

The shadows under his eyes, the exhaustion. How does nobody else see it?

The tabloids led him to believe that Bucky spent all his time partying but most of the time he’s just holed up in his room. It’s still pretty obvious that he doesn’t want Steve around so Steve leaves him to it. The amount of times Bucky just closes the door on him is getting old.

Steve spends his time out in the hall, ignoring texts from Sam and resisting the urge to play games on his phone. (He gives in to that halfway during the second week. The hall is fucking boring.)

Then there are those late nights when Bucky wants to get out, so they get the driver and just go – driving away from the city. Steve sits up front next to the driver, watching the traffic. Bucky sprawls across the backseat with the sunroof open, staring up at the night sky until he’s had his fill and he taps on the seat.

“Then, home James.”

Steve thought Bucky made the same terrible chauffeur joke every time just for the hell of it, until he learns the driver’s name actually is James.

After these nights Bucky sleeps a little better at least.

* * *

By the end of the third week Bucky’s not closing the door in his face every single day. Steve keeps quiet, drawing on the app on his phone. He draws Bucky sometimes, sprawled on the couch or sitting at his desk hunched over his laptop.

Bucky doesn’t talk to him much. Obviously he’s used to bodyguards following him around. This is just the start of his father’s second term after all. They’ve been part of his life ever since his father first ran for the senate, before he became the VP. By now Bucky just tunes them out. It’s like he doesn’t really see Steve even when he’s in the same room with him.

That really shouldn’t bother Steve as much as it does.

* * *

Steve cracks his neck and checks his watch again. Ten more minutes and he’s done for his shift long as Bucky’s in for the night. At the moment the First Lady is in there with him. Steve stifles a yawn and wishes he had had time to get his morning run in. Technically there's no reason why he shouldn't have enough time even if he just runs around the grounds. It's not like they really go anywhere apart from Bucky’s night drives and the occasional press junket or charity event. Steve had assumed this job would stressful. He'd never thought it would be boring.

His phone buzzes. Steve gets it out. Sam _– Dinner/Drinks 2nite with group? Yes?_ It sounds like heaven after this week. Technically he’s done soon as his relief gets here for the sleep shift. Why not?

He sends off the text just the door opens and Bucky glances at him. He’s got a jacket on which is a bad sign.

Steve nods to the First Lady as she walks out of the room. She gives him a distracted smile and goes down the hall.

"Who's that?" Bucky inquires. “Girlfriend?”

"Nope." Steve drops the phone back in his pocket. Like he'd actually be able to have a relationship with this kind of schedule. Even if he wanted one it would be impossible.

Bucky is already heading down the hall. Steve goes after him.

"We going somewhere?" _Please say no, say no, say no._ One night, that’s all he wants.

"Yeah. Out."

 _Damn it._ Steve gets out his phone as they head for the car.

Bucky glances at him. "Did I ruin your plans?"

"No." Steve sends Sam a _sorry can't make it_ text. He ignores the instant response, knowing that Sam's just gonna give him shit for this. He hasn’t kept any of their plans in the last month.

"You're a bad liar, Rogers. You should work on that."

* * *

The club's noisy and crowded. Bucky snags a corner booth and he just sits there, sipping drink after drink, watching the world dance by. Steve eyes his watch. Even if they headed back now he'll have missed the dinner. Yet another one he owes Sam.

"You want to get out of here." Bucky says.

"You suggesting that or just making an observation?" Steve looks over the dancer floor, missing the look Bucky gives him in response.

When he looks back Bucky’s up, moving away from the table heading out there.

 * * *

In the dim lighting of the club it’s like he doesn’t even exist. Bucky closes his eyes and lets go. There’s somebody grinding against him and there’s a half second where he imagines it’s Steve.

When he opens his eyes it’s just some clubber. He’s cute enough, and Bucky’s drunk. And this is what he came out tonight for. He needs this. He grinds back, watching Steve over the guy’s shoulder. His bodyguard is not happy.

They dance for another song. By that time, Bucky’s buzz is wearing off and his hard-on is killing him. He drags the guy back to the table and they do a quick succession of shots. The guy gropes him under the table.

“Stop looking at your watch.” Bucky says without looking at Steve.

“It’s getting pretty late.” Steve watches the guy rub his hand between Bucky’s legs. It’s a good thing the club’s lighting is as poor as it is cause this is the last sort of publicity the president needs right now.

Bucky stands up, slightly unsteady. "Here's how it is.” He leans, hand pressing at Steve’s lapel. “I'm either going to fuck him in the back room here or I'm gonna fuck him in the car on the way back. Of course that way you'd get to watch." His breath is warm on Steve's cheek. "Any preference?"

Steve swallows. "Just go ahead and do it here." He hesitates and then, "Do you have a condom?"

"What?"

"You're not actually thinking of having unprotected sex. That's just plain stupid." Steve nods to the toilets. "Come on."

Bucky jerks his head at the guy to head on back. He follows Steve to the restroom, watching with amusement as Steve buys him a condom from the machine.

“Here.” Steve holds it out.

Bucky just stares at him. "Are you for real?"

"What, your other bodyguards didn't make sure you had safe sex?" Steve feels like an idiot offering the condom to him.

"They mostly excelled at looking the other way." Bucky takes it, the tips of his fingers barely brushing Steve's at all.

"Well, I'm not here to do that. I'm here to look out for you."

Bucky looks down again, forcing himself to smile. He's not getting fucking teary over this. He's _not_. "Even my sex life?"

"In all things." Steve shrugs. “That’s the job.”

"But you don't approve."

"Do you need my approval?"

"No," Bucky says, "I don't."

If it sounds like he's convincing himself, neither of them admit it.

"You're a rare gentleman, you know that." Bucky tells him. He goes down the hall into the room and shuts the door. Steve takes up his position outside.

There’s a low laugh from inside the room and he wishes like hell that Bucky had just stayed in tonight.

* * *

If Bucky doesn’t look too close when he tugs the guy over to him – if he doesn’t even try – if he lets himself drift – it’s almost good enough.

* * *

The door opens sooner than Steve expected. The other guy comes out first. Steve eyes him suspiciously before checking Bucky over. He looks fine except his cheeks are flushed and his lips - Steve doesn't even want to think about his lips, doesn't want to think about Bucky maybe ( _probably_ ) blowing this random guy, his lips wet and sloppy, Bucky looking up at him with that expression that Steve can't shake not even when he sleeps, not these days.

"You okay there, Rogers?" Bucky nudges his shoulder. "You look a little out of it."

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm finished." Bucky smirks. "See what I did there?"

"Hilarious." Steve taps his earpiece. "Bring the car around."

* * *

Bucky slouches in the back seat. "So what plans did I ruin earlier?"

"I already told you." Steve starts, but Bucky just leans forward and reaches in his pocket. He pulls out Steve's phone and starts scrolling.

"Gimme that." Steve makes a grab for it.

"Who's Sam and why does he put up with your shit?"

" _Your_ shit," Steve corrects. He makes another grab, this time pinning Bucky's wrists with one hand and takes his phone back with the other. The driver gives him a look.

"Laying hands on the president’s son, tsk tsk." Bucky drawls. "I'm sure my parents would love that."

"And I'm sure they'd love to know about the other hands on you tonight too." Steve shoots back.

Bucky just laughs. "You really do disapprove."

"Not of that...I just think you're better than that,"

"That's sweet Steve, but I'm really not." Bucky looks away out the window. He doesn’t even notice that he called him Steve. Steve does though. He’d forgotten the soft sound his name has on Bucky’s tongue.

* * *

This time Steve walks him to the door and Bucky waves him off before closing it. The night shift take over and he’s done. Steve heads home.

Now he doesn’t look at the clock. Steve doesn’t want to even think about what time it is now. It isn’t like he had thought this job would be a walk in the park. It would be a huge responsibility watching the president’s son even if he hadn't been taken before.

They’d told him not to mention it when he’d been brought in on the detail. “The president doesn’t like being reminded of that.”

 _Yeah, but what about Bucky?_ Steve had wanted to ask _. He’s the one who actually got kidnapped._

He had underestimated the impact of seeing Bucky again, being around him on a daily basis. Every single day and Bucky still didn't remember him.

Of course that was probably for the best. If Bucky had remembered him, if the _president_ had remembered him, there's no way Steve ever would have gotten the job.


End file.
